


Wait, You're a... Guy?

by Samcifer_shipper



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pirate England (Hetalia)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:07:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25423618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samcifer_shipper/pseuds/Samcifer_shipper
Summary: Arthur goes to see who's crying after another raid. He doesn't find quite what he expected.
Relationships: England/France (Hetalia)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 39





	1. Arthur's Side Of The Story

Arthur smiled wickedly as the canonnade stopped, a signal for him and the rest of the crew to get out and attack. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins as he stepped on the ground, ready to do whatever it takes to get what he wanted.

It was just another pillage, nothing out of the ordinary, but it was always thrilling for Arthur to walk through the houses in fire and the destroyed boutiques, it made him feels as if he could control the world. One day, he told himself as he slashed a citizen who wouldn't let him pass, one day he'll become the most feared pirate there had ever been.

He, along with the rest of the crew, was on their way to go back to the ship with their bounty when Arthur heard someone crying. Usually, he would've just let it happen, but something moved inside of him and he walked into the house in which he had heard the sound. 

In there were two dead adults, a man and a woman, and who Arthur assumed was their daughter. The crying teen had a long blue gown that fell around mid-calf, lined with gold. It came as a surprise to Arthur, as usually, even if they weren't old enough, girls wore robes that came down to their feet. Her hair was of a beautiful blond and was around shoulder-length.

For an unknown reason, Arthur couldn't bring himself to raise his sword and finish the girl. Instead, he kneeled down beside her and attempted to calm her the best he could, feeling for the first time in his life what he would later call pity and for now just called sympathy. It worked though, and the girl soon stopped crying, her sobs reduced to only sniffles. Since her head was staying down, Arthur couldn't see her face and he believed it was for the best since she couldn’t see him either, he decided to play innocent.

“What happened to you?” he asked, in a voice he hadn’t known he could make so gentle.

“The pirates came in and they killed my papa and maman,” the girl answered in a thick french accent. Arthur felt kind of weird, it was like he couldn’t place that voice. It wasn’t particularly feminine, but it wasn’t exactly manly either. 

“How old are you?” Arthur felt like he shouldn’t have asked that, it was kind of out of the blue, but something was pushing him towards the girl and he wanted to know more about her.

“17, et toi?” Thankfully, Arthur knew the basics in French and was able to understand the question.

“18, look, we gonna get you out of here. After the pirates come the bandits.”

The girl looked up and Arthur was confused even further. She looked like she was neither a boy nor a girl, though her dress made it more likely that she was a girl. She smiled at him and Arthur melted inside, that smile was so beautiful!

“Thanks for helping me,” she said. “What’s your name?”

“Arthur. Arthur Kirkland. And you?” As soon as the words left his mouth, Arthur knew he had made a mistake. If she had not spotted him because of his clothes before, she would definitely make the link between him and his brother.

“Francis Bonnefoy,” the girl snapped, making Arthur freeze in shock. “I suppose you have a good reason for helping me, pirate?”

Arthur could do nothing but stare at the girl- boy, the boy, Francis, speechless. How- she was a- how hadn’t he- he felt so stupid. He should’ve known she wasn’t a girl, it was probably a trap. 

“Well, despite the looks, I have a consience, you frog.” It was the best insult Arthur’s confused mind could come up with. 

“What did you just call me?” Francis gaaped, shocked. 

“Frog,” Arthur repeated. He felt it was easier to deal with the fact that Francis wasn’t a girl if he insulted his appearance. It made him feel less weirded out by how beautiful he thought Francis was, and not just because he looked quite effeminate. “Look, either you come with me and I make sure you don’t get hurt or you stay here and wait for the bandits. I doubt they’ll ask your name and a young lady alone in a deserted village, I let you imagine what they’ll do to you.”

Francis stared at him with wide eyes, a shiver going down his spine. He had heard tales of what happened to raid survivors and they weren’t pretty. 

“Fine,” he growled, standing up but swatting away he hand Arthur had lend him. “I don’t need your help.”

“Alright, let’s go, wanker, they’re probably all waiting for me if they haven’t left yet.”

~~

“And that’s how I met your father,” Francis finished with a smile. 

Alfred and Matthew were looking at him with wide, invested eyes, fascinated by the story. 

“That was awesome papa!” Alfred exclaimed, clapping loudly. 

“Alright, time to go to sleep.” The boys protested but did as such, laying down in their bed. 

“Papa,” Matthew asked, “next time, could we have the story from your perspective?”


	2. Francis' PoV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The same story, but this time told from Francis' perspective

Francis was baking bread. It was his mother’s birthday tomorrow and he wanted to do something special for her. 

Currently, his parents were out shopping. They still needed a few things for tomorrow’s dinner and decided it was better to go now, to be able to relax on the special day. 

His parents came back just as Francis heard the first cannon sounds. He brushed it off as the guards training at first. When it didn’t stop, his dad went to see what was happening and came back covered in a grey powder with a panicked look on his face. 

He had to say only one word for his terror to reach the others: “Pirates!”

Francis took the bread out of the oven even if it wasn’t ready, to be sure it wouldn’t burn the house down if they forgot it. Or if they wouldn’t be there to take it out. 

His mother hid all of her jewelry and every shiny things in the house. Pirates were like the dragons of the stories: they stole everything that reflected light, sometimes killing for it. 

Most of the time killing for it. 

His father took out his axe, ready to defend his family. It was just an axe used to cut wood, but whatever worked and could cut was good. 

Francis hid away under the table, conveniently covered to the bottom by the piece of white cloth that was over it. He was scared out of his mind and knew he couldn’t fight if anyone found him. He was gonna be a cook dammit, not a warrior, he had never learned to fight!

It was chaos outside. Buildings were aflame, people were running, screaming, pirates were killing without mercy, bringing the treasure back to their boat as they acquired it. There were people dead on the ground and others dying against a wall, but still trying to defend whatever they defended with their lives. 

Francis heard the door being broken and shouts, but he was too terrified to want to find what was happening. He knew there was fighting and after a while, one thump on the ground, followed by a cruel laugh and another thump. Two people had died, and Francis doubted it was the pirate who had came in. 

When the noise outside died down and he thought it was safe, Francis crawled from under the table and looked around. 

Everything was destroyed. It was a miracle the table hadn’t been turned upside-down. The windows were smashed, the shelves broken and even the furnace had been torn down. 

In the middle of it, his parents were laying down, white and blood pooling under them. 

The tears that had been filling Francis’ eyes finally fell down as he backed as far away as he could until his back hit the wall, sobbing loudly in the silence of the house. 

He didn’t hear the faint footsteps outside, only when one of them came close to him he acknowledged them, his terror coming back in waves. He was gonna get killed, that he was sure of it. He didn’t expect the person, whoever it was, to take him in his arms and attempt to calm him. 

It worked though, and Francis’ sobs morphed into hiccups, then eventually died out, just like his tears. 

“What happened to you?” a voice with a thick british accent smoke, low and soothing. 

“The pirates came in and they killed my papa and maman,” Francis answered, pulling away and hiding his face back into his arms. With luck, the man would think he was a girl and be more willing to help him. 

“How old are you?” What kind of a question was that? As far as Francis knew, if you met someone after a pirate raid, the first thing you do isn’t to ask their name. 

“17, et toi?” If he was gonna give his name, he was at least gonna get the other one’s. 

“18, look, we gonna get you out of here. After the pirates come the bandits.”

Francis looked up to meet emerald eyes. What did the man mean, the bandits?

He decided to take a look at who was in front of him. The man had dirty blond hair and eyebrows thicker than Francis had ever seen. They almost made him laugh, if it weren’t for the contest. He had a fancy army-like type of coat, red with golden things on his shoulders shiny silver buttons, with many belts on his waist and one passing over his shoulder, a loose white shirt, even a large hat, but it was all too worn out to really look military at all. It looked more like- like what a pirate would wear, a pirate captain. 

No matter if he was a pirate, Francis thought, he guy had helped him and seemed to care for him at least because he thought Francis was a girl. It came in handy in times like this. 

“Thanks for helping me,” he said. “What’s your name?”

“Arthur, Arthur Kirkland. And you?” So Francis was right, this man was a pirate. There weren’t any Kirkland known in France except for the nefarious Alistor Kirkland, the most feared pirate of Northern Europe. 

“Francis Bonnefoy. I suppose you have a reason for helping me, pirate?”

And there it was. On Arthur’s face passed all sorts of emotions. Surprise, confusion, horror and something else he couldn’t quite catch. 

“Well, despite the looks, I have a conscience, you frog.”

Frog. Really? That was the best this pirate was able to come up with? Francis felt insulted. Not only had he just been treated of frog, but he wasn’t even worth a real insult? Pathetic. 

“What did you just call me?”

“Frog.” Arthur took a pause, seemingly thinking. “Look, either you come with me and I make sure you don’t get hurt or you stay here and wait for the bandits. I doubt they’ll ask your name and a young lady alone in a deserted village, I let you imagine what they’ll do to you.”

Francis shivered. He had heard tales about pillagers and it wasn’t pretty. “Fine.”

The other went to lend him a hand but Francis swatted it away. Seriously? He didn’t need help! “I don’t need your help.”

Arthur looked positively annoyed. Good, Francis thought, at least he’s mad. 

“Alright, let’s go, wanker, they’re probably all waiting for me if they haven’t left yet.”

~~

“And that’s what happened for me when we met.”

“Did your parents really die like that?” Alfred asked, on the verge of tearing up. It was all he had remembered from the story, his papa’s parents getting a horrible death. 

“Yes sweetie, and I promise it won’t happen to us.” Francis turned to Matthew, who was laying back and closing his eyes. 

“Thank you papa,” the boy whispered, already starting to doze off. 

“Je t’aime mon coeur.”  
I love you, honey.


End file.
